Pieces of Camden (Hole-Hearted #1) (22 page)

Understanding creeps in, and I repel from the ugly truth. From the devastating hatred I’ve fled from for years.

“That was you?” I ask, backing away from her.

She takes a step in my direction.

“You set the fire?”

“Cam…”

“You tried to kill me?”

Losing my footing on a rock, I fall to the ground, and my mom kneels down in front of me.

“I…I…Cam, I can’t…” Averting her eyes, she reaches into her pocket and pulls out a clear plastic bag and lighter. “Take it.” She extends her hand and waits.

“What?” Bewildered, I look at the offered bag, my fingers itching to reach for it. “You’re giving me heroin?”

“It’s all I have.”

Sad eyes watch me as I take her drugs and lighter from her and put them in my own pocket.

“Maybe this is it.” Subdued, I stand up and begin to walk back to Pastor Floyd’s office with a sudden calming peace passing over me. “Maybe this’ll finally be what kills me,” I mutter into the cool air.

With earnest hope, I stalk toward the madness sitting in my pocket and catch a glimpse of death and the promise of a new horizon.

The door to Pastor Floyd’s church office creaks open after I unlocked it with the spare key he’d entrusted me with years ago. Although I hadn’t wanted to come back here, I’d had nowhere else to go when the weight of what was in my pocket hefted me further into a bleak oblivion. I craved a sense of familiarity. Needed it, so here I am.

Smothering the tension inside my gut, I sit on the same couch I sat on earlier with Pastor Floyd. With a definite purpose, I swallow the heartache clogging my throat and reach for the small plastic bag in my pocket. I toy with it, looking at the brown substance, before I stand back up.

On tired knees, I go to Pastor Floyd’s office and rummage through his drawer for one of the spoons he keeps in there for the canned soups he’s so fond of. After finding it, I go to the medicine cabinet in the bathroom and find one of the many sealed syringes he keeps stowed away in case he needs an emergency injection of insulin for his diabetes. I also grab a few cotton balls. My hands shake as I turn on the faucet and suck a bit of water into the syringe.

The disquiet in the air follows me as I go back to the couch and take in a ragged breath. The promise of tranquility pushes forward.

After putting a small chunk of heroin onto the silver spoon, I squirt water over it and then use the back of the syringe to mix it together before setting the needle on the couch beside me. My heart hammers inside of me and I close my eyes as I pull out a lighter from my pocket and heat the bottom of the spoon.

My eyes narrow, my left leg shakes, but still, I press on, and I roll up a small piece of the cotton and place it over the solution on the spoon.

My eyes dart to the door, a part of me hoping for some sort of divine intervention. When God continues to ignore my silent plea for salvation, I push the tip of the needle into the cotton and pull back the plunger, watching the syringe fill with all the regrets of my sorry life.

Again, my eyes dart to the door, but I know no one’s coming for me. I’m alone, not worth the trouble I’ve caused the people I love.

I angle the needle and insert it into my arm. My breath catches in the back of my throat, and after a few small wiggles, I pull the plunger back. When I see blood trickling into the syringe, I let go of any lingering hope and inject myself. I hold the shame and guilt close to my center as I wait for my heart to stop, for my body to stop fighting.

Resting my head on the back of the couch, I stare at the yellowed ceiling eager to leave this beaten and broken life behind.

A picture of Yanelys holding Olivia crosses my mind, and I hold on to them, wishing I could have been what they needed. I offer God my last prayer, knowing He’ll hear me because they deserve happiness. Olivia deserves a dad, and Yanelys, a good man who’ll be everything I couldn’t.

A soft sigh brushes over my lips as warmth spreads throughout my body seconds before my eyes close, and the world goes black.

TWENTY-NINE

YANELYS

There once was a boy who was strong and kind and caring. He was courageous but sad. Sorrow and destruction followed his every misstep.

There once was a boy who loved a girl and protected her from harm, even when it meant alienating himself so that she could be safe from him.

There once was a boy who followed a path full of seduction and deceit. False promises were made that kept him away from the people who loved him most.

There once was a boy who one day woke up as a lonely man, away from his life, his family, his home.

Neither the boy nor the man knew the true value of love. He reached for love, but his own feelings of disapproval destroyed every chance he had of letting love in.

I grip the man’s hand and plead with the boy to find his way back to me. To fight and stop underestimating himself or the love we share.

“Be strong, Cam,” I whisper, brushing the loose strands of hair out of his face. “Come back to me.”

After we hounded the nurses, Camden’s doctor finally spoke to my parents, Pastor Floyd, and me and reassured us that Camden would make a full recovery although he had experienced respiratory arrest while en route to the hospital in the ambulance Pastor Floyd had called when he found Camden unconscious this morning.

They had been able to bring Camden back.

Now, all he has to do is open his eyes and choose to live. Really live, not just breathe and go through the motions of daily life. I want Camden to live and experience, and love and laugh. I want him to hurt and feel, and scream and cry. I want him to do all of that and more right beside Olivia and me.

“I’m waiting for you.” I press my lips to his forehead. “We all are. You have a new life to live, but you have to fight for it.”

“I’m tired of fighting,” Camden groans.

My lips twitch, relief flooding me at the sound of Camden’s voice. “Dig deeper inside of you, Cam, because you’re gonna fight. We’re gonna fight.”

Camden’s eyes flutter open, a pair of blue eyes looking back at me. “You’re so beautiful, Yan. You know that?”

“Figures you’d almost die, and those would be the first words out of your mouth.”

His eyes dance, his lips lifting for a second, but then another soft groan fills the room when he takes in his surroundings. “I’m in the hospital?”

I nod. “Do you remember what happened yesterday?”

His brows knit together, a tight frown painting over his lips. He takes in a sharp breath of air, and when his eyes meet mine, he nods once.

“That’s behind you, Camden.” I take his hand in mine and intertwine our fingers together.

“You can’t fix me, Yan.” He watches me, waiting for my response, as fear and pain play behind his eyes.

“But I can stay with you.”

I sit on the edge of his bed, and he moves to the other side to give me room. When I lie down next to him, he pulls me to him and kisses my forehead.

“Olivia,” he whispers his daughter’s name, making my heart skip several beats. “What about her?”

“She’s with my parents.”

“Tomorrow—”

“Tomorrow will come,” I interrupt. “And we’ll face it together. One day at a time, Cam. That’s all it takes.”

His arms tighten their grip around me, and I lean my face toward his, so I can kiss the stubble on his jaw. He tips my chin and places a soft kiss on my mouth. His fingers caress my cheek and I lean onto his hand, needing the same comfort I’m giving him.

“Together, we’ll make sense of it all,” I promise.

“I’m no good for Livvy.”

“You’re enough, Cam.” I take his hand and kiss the palm before I tighten my fingers over his. “You are so enough. It’s incredible just how enough you actually are.”

My words bleed into him, and I watch his walls give and begin to shatter behind his eyes.

“Stop betraying yourself with lies, and open your eyes, so you can see just how important you are. We all have something that destroys us and makes us flawed.” I lick my lips, our eyes connecting us, and I can feel his pain as my own. “It strangles our hearts and keeps our emotions raw, so we can’t move past them. We all have something we can’t take back that cripples our souls.”

“What destroys you?” he asks.

“You do. Every time you leave me.”

He balks at my words, but I press on.

“So, stop leaving me, Cam.”

His lips form a thin line as he presses them together. “I don’t know how to stay and not ruin everything.”

“One day at a time, remember? Forget about what could or might happen weeks or months or years from now. We’re only focusing on today.”

“Since we were kids, you’ve always tried to save me, but what if there’s nothing left to save?”

“I’m not trying to save you. You can do that on your own. I just want to make it hurt less.” The sides of my lips tip up, remembering the very same conversation we had when we were kids.

He draws in a small breath, both of us lost in the memory of our youth and the bond we’ve shared for years.

“You’re wrong,” he stammers, dropping his eyes to his lap. “I can’t save myself. You’re my knight, my warrior, my everything. You’re the one who made me fight when what I really wanted to do was give up.” Bright blue eyes look up at me, begging me, as they darken with his intensity. They overflow with emotions, with the never-ending sadness framing his thin face.

My tongue sneaks out, wetting my lips, as we stare at each other. The man I love, hardened by life’s many blows, watches me with all of his vulnerabilities exposed.

His hands reach out and take my face, his warmth emanating the same fierceness he has to find internally. His voice comes out raw, the expression on his face rigid, as he says, “When I left, I gave up. The only time I felt even the tiniest bit of hope was in Haiti, but when I lost that…”

“Your world came crashing down.” With tender fingers, I touch his hands, acknowledging his pain, wanting to carry some of his load for him. “I’m sorry, sweetie. I’m sorry for everything you’ve lost. I’m sorry I wasn’t there to help you.”

He leans his head forward, and I bring him to my chest, tightly hugging him, swearing I’ll never let him go. He trembles at my touch and lets out a loud sob. With his restraint gone, I hold him, both of us experiencing the same excruciating pain that plummets into our chests, leaving us breathless.

“I’m here now. And, Cam, I need you to get clean. Livvy and I—we need you to get clean. Livvy needs her dad, and I need my soul mate.”

“Okay.” His grip around my waist tightens, and he exhales a long breath. “I’m gonna do this right though. I have to go away again.”

My chest constricts, and he looks up at me with bloodshot eyes.

“I have to go to rehab, Yan. It’s the only way I can do this.”

“Okay,” I agree, leaning forward so that I can kiss his forehead.

He closes his eyes, and when he opens them, he gazes at me with determination. “I’m going to get clean—for you, for Livvy, for myself. I just need you to promise me something.”

Our eyes meet, and I nod my head, licking my lips.

“Promise me you won’t bring Livvy to see me. I can’t have my daughter seeing me in a place like that.” Emotions rake over his face as he waits for my reply.

“Okay, but you can’t keep me away, Cam. We’re in this together.”

THIRTY

CAMDEN

I always knew whatever path I followed would somehow lead me back to Yanelys. She’s my destination. My hope, even when I thought I’d given up on that. My heart, mind, and soul still guide me to her.

Her words, her promises, hold me together. One day at a time is a lot less daunting than picturing endless days of trying and fighting. Those words spoken from her lips reached me, breathing life and faith back into my lungs. The terror of wanting to live for her, for Olivia, doesn’t have as tight of a hold as it did before.

Because we’re doing it together, one day at a time. We’ll grow together—not through the years that we spend with one another, but the experiences that bind us, the wars we wage and win. Together. And I will win.

One day, when I leave the rehab center I was admitted to two days ago, I’ll wake up to my beautiful girl and greet the sun with the same determination Yanelys fills me with. Every night, I’ll go to bed, knowing I fought and won another battle against my addiction.

When I leave the confines of my small room and step into the front office, familiar shame slams into me when I spot Santiago waiting for me by the receptionist’s desk. My chest heaves, and I gasp.

Santiago’s throat bobs as he swallows and turns his brown eyes to the floor before they settle back on me. He clears his throat, his body tensing with every step he takes toward me.

“I’m not leaving her again,” I say before he has the chance to speak. “Or Livvy. I’ve screwed up,” I rush on, blurting out everything I feel and know to be true, “so many times, and I’ll probably keep on screwing up, but leaving her, leaving them, has been the biggest mistake I’ve made. I can’t do it again.” My chest lifts and drops in rapid succession. “You can hate me.” My heart constricts, moisture collecting in the corners of my eyes, and I run my hands over my face. “But I’m not leaving my family, not ever again.”